Expectations
by sasha1600
Summary: Gibbs warned them what he would do if they hit one another again... Tag to Stakeout. Warning: spanking of adults. Don’t like? Don’t read!
1. Chapter 1

**Expectations**

**Summary**: Gibbs warned them what he would do if they hit one another again.... Tag to Stakeout. **Warning**: spanking of adults. Don't like? Don't read!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them, I just play with them.

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A/N: This is part of an on-going discipline series and builds on a larger plot arc. It should make sense on its own, but it picks up on threads from The Warning and works better if you read that first.

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**Warning: this story contains the spanking of adults. If you have a problem with that, click on that 'back' button now. You've been warned.**

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Tim paced around the interrogation room, trying hard not to hyperventilate, still finding it difficult to believe that this was actually happening. His mind was racing frantically. What would happen if he begged Gibbs not to whip him, he wondered?

The scuffle with Tony had been short-lived and, aside from a bruise on his arm where he'd blocked a punch, had left him unscathed. He'd almost forgotten all about it. In retrospect, a couple of eggs was a really stupid reason for a fight... but, to be honest, it was more about the gradually-building tension from being cooped up together for so long with not much really to do that had finally got to them both.

Neither of them had noticed that the surveillance camera trained on the road outside had been bumped, turning just enough on its tripod to catch a bit of the fight. And their luck had just gotten worse, with Gibbs happening to see that bit of the footage when the video was reviewed and indexed when the case was being wrapped up and the evidence processed.

Tim had thought that the look on Gibbs's face, when they discovered that the radar system had been stolen out from under the cameras he had set up, had been bad. And when he'd overheard his conversation with Abby about Gibbs-proofing his explanation, it had been worse.

That was nothing compared to his expression when he saw that video.

And now, with the paperwork finally finished, Tim found himself waiting for Gibbs to spank him for it.

He remembered clearly the last time his boss had punished him for hitting Tony. He flexed his right hand, feeling a faint tingle at the memory of Abby's collar, commandeered as a strap, landing hard on his outstretched palm.

And Gibbs's words afterwards were echoing in his head.

He was frankly terrified. The couple of spankings he'd received from Gibbs had been breathtakingly painful; he couldn't imagine how much worse it would be without the protection of a few layers of clothing between him and his boss's belt.

And, although he'd been in the locker room downstairs often enough with Gibbs, he was still embarrassed by the prospect of having to lower his pants before bending over to be whipped.

Suddenly feeling light-headed, Tim sat down hard on one of the uncomfortable moulded plastic chairs.

Maybe Gibbs wouldn't actually follow though on the threat, he thought desperately. After all, it wasn't _much_ of a fight. Surely not enough to warrant the sort of punishment that Gibbs had threatened them with. Maybe he'd just spank them the way he always did.

Taking a few deep breaths, Tim started to feel a bit calmer.

Gibbs probably didn't even _mean_ it to begin with... he was just trying to frighten them. Right?


	2. Chapter 2

Tony looked up at the sound of the interview room door being opened, then quickly averted his eyes. The sight of the hated leather strap in Gibbs's hand made his stomach flip over. But it was the look on his face that he couldn't bear to see.

'Boss... I...'

'What the _hell_ were you thinking, Tony?'

'I dunno, Boss. We were just bored, and getting on each other's nerves, and then he didn't get the food order right and he was acting really obnoxious and...'

'Are you seriously trying to _justify_ why you two were _fighting_?!'

'No! Just... maybe... explain? I think we both just kinda snapped and needed to let off a bit of steam. And it wasn't a big deal... if you hadn't seen that video...'

'You would have gotten away with it?'

'That's not what I meant! But it wasn't really a 'fight' fight. It's not like we actually hurt each other or anything.'

'That's not good enough, Tony. If you don't want to find yourself transferred to another team, knock off this crap that's going on between you and McGee. You can't work together, like this. Not with our jobs.'

'Boss, you know I'd never let him get hurt! I...'

'And if you try to push him out of the way of something, and he pushes back because he thinks you're just being a smartass?'

Tony's bluster evaporated.

'I'm not taking that chance, Tony.'

'And, of course, you'd keep McGee,' Tony said quietly, trying not to show how hurt he was by the idea that his boss considered him the more dispensable member of the team.

'No, I'd transfer _both_ of you to new teams. If nothing _I_ try is gonna convince you two to act like field agents rather than middle schoolers, then maybe someone else will be able to get through to you better. I'll do what I have to, to avoid losing you entirely... even if it means losing you from my team.'

Tony hung his head, stung by the comment about his childish behaviour but unable to protest the validity of that characterisation. He couldn't even begin to process how he felt about the rest of Gibbs's declaration.

'It won't happen again, Boss.'

'It damn well better not!'

Gibbs gestured towards the table in the centre of the room, and Tony moved hesitantly towards it.

'Tony, you're my senior field agent. I need to be able to rely on you. When I'm not in the room, you should be taking the lead, taking responsibility, not taking advantage of the situation.'

'I know, Boss...'

'And you should be looking out for McGee, not looking for ways to drop him in it.'

'C'mon, Boss... it's not like I was trying to get him in trouble. I'm not exactly in the clear, here.'

'Yeah? Did you even think about how big a deal _this_ is gonna be for him?' Gibbs asked, gesturing with the strap. 'Pants down.'

Tony paled, realising that Gibbs was right. He wasn't looking forward to this. It was going to hurt like hell, but he'd been on the receiving end of Gibbs's strap often enough before. And he wasn't exactly thrilled about having to bare his ass for it, but, compared to being spanked over Gibbs's knee, dropping his pants wasn't particularly distressing. For Tim, novelty would make the strap even more terrifying, and he'd feel the emotional effects of such absolute submission to their boss's authority very deeply.

'Now, Tony.'

Tony spoke impulsively, suddenly very aware that he'd gotten Tim into this.

'Boss... let me take responsibility for this. As you said, I was in charge. Tim...'

Gibbs's expression didn't change.

'Don't make me tell you again.'

Tony recognised the futility of further argument. His hands moved to his belt, and he fumbled with it for a moment before pushing his jeans and boxers to his knees and bending over. He held on tightly to the edges of the table, resting his forehead on its battered surface.

Even though he was expecting it, the pain from the first lash tore a gasp of pain from him. He barely had time to suck in a panicked breath before he felt the next hard stroke. He was surprised how much more painful the strap was on bare skin; he hadn't thought his clothing provided much protection at all, considering how much it _usually _hurt, but this was worse than he'd ever imagined. He sobbed and yelped his way through four more lashes and was panting heavily when Gibbs paused after the sixth blaze of pain.

Without warning, he felt the strap against the back of his thighs. Gibbs had never done that before, and the scorching lash caught him completely by surprise. He pulled away from the table, turning his head to look over his shoulder in shock. Gibbs just arched one eyebrow, and Tony reluctantly got back into position. The second stroke on his burning thighs made him cry out loudly enough that he expected half the agency to barge in, guns drawn. He tried to brace himself, knowing that no amount of preparation would make the next lash any more bearable.

Instead, he felt Gibbs's hand carding through his hair, brushing it gently away from his face.

'Tim doesn't need you to cover for him, Tony. He needs you to act like his partner.'

Tony nodded, still gasping in pain and trying to catch his breath. A moment later he heard the door shut quietly behind Gibbs.


	3. Chapter 3

Gibbs stepped into the interrogation room where Tim was waiting for him. The younger man leapt to his feet, toppling his chair over with a loud clatter in his haste. He was very pale, and his hands were shaking.

But he managed to meet his eyes as he stammered, 'Boss... I'm so, so sorry...'

Gibbs nodded, acknowledging the genuine contrition but not faltering in his determination to punish him as harshly as he'd warned him to expect. Tim needed him to be consistent, to not make idle threats. And he needed to know that serious misbehaviour would have serious consequences. Besides, Tim could handle it. He was sensitive, but he wasn't weak.

He moved farther into the small room. He could tell the moment that Tim caught sight of the object in his hand. Tim turned impossibly more pale, in eyes widening in terror. He took a step back, nearly tripping over the tipped-over chair, staring at it in confusion for a moment before once again fixing his eyes fearfully on the heavy leather strap.

He pressed his lips together, voicelessly forming the first syllable of a desperate plea before stopping himself with visible effort. But, even though it was not said aloud, Gibbs could hear the 'Please don't make me do this, Boss' as clearly as if the words had indeed been spoken.

Gibbs gave him a moment to pull himself together. He watched as Tim gulped frantically for air a few times and shut his eyes, balling his hands into fists. He was about to speak, to order the panicked younger man into position, when Tim opened his eyes, nodded, and turned towards the table.

He felt a surge of pride as Tim started to lean forward, but he interrupted him gently.

'I told you what would happen, next time, Tim.'

Tim turned back towards him, astonishment and horror plainly legible in his features. He clearly knew exactly what Gibbs meant, and just as clearly had convinced himself that it wasn't going to happen. His eyes glistened as they darted between his boss's solemn expression and the strap he carried. Again, he said nothing. After a moment, a few silent tears trailed down his cheeks.

Gibbs waited without comment until Tim faced the table once more and slowly unfastened his belt and fumbled with his fly and button. A long moment passed before he let his trousers fall to his knees. He stood there, in his boxers, trembling slightly.

'Shorts too, Tim,' Gibbs prompted quietly.

Again, it took Tim a moment to comply, his hands faltering at his hips before resolutely shoving his underwear down his legs and bending over the table. He sobbed quietly into his folded arms.

Gibbs moved quickly to his side, not wanting to drag things out any longer for his distraught agent. As he drew his hand back for the first lash, a flash of memory surged into his mind.

_*flashback*_

'_What the hell were you thinking, Probie?!' _

'_I got the job done, didn't I, Mike?'_

_Franks slammed the door shut, sealing off the small NCIS office from the rest of base headquarters at Camp Pendleton. _

'_Going in, against orders, without backup, is not doing the damn job, Gibbs!'_

'_If I'd waited...'_

'_You want to get yourself killed, you get your fool ass back to the Marines. You want to work for me, you follow my orders and you don't take boneheaded risks like that stunt this afternoon.'_

'_I didn't have any choice...'_

'_Bullshit! You could have done what I damn well told you to do!'_

'_But...'_

_Franks's voice was gentler as he continued, 'Getting yourself killed isn't gonna bring 'em back, Gunny. And it's not what they would want you to do.'_

_Gibbs felt a flash of anger._

'_It's not about them, Mike...'_

'_Then get your head on straight, Probie. In the meantime, get your ass over here.'_

_Franks hauled open the top drawer of his desk, and pulled out an old-fashioned leather strap, like Gibbs remembered from his school days. It was made of two thick pieces of black leather, sewn together with stitches that once had been white. The fact that it had been made for no other purpose than the infliction of pain made it seem much more menacing than a belt. Gibbs wondered for a fraction of a second where Franks had acquired the relic. _

_Then his brain moved on to the prospect of being on the wrong end of the thing. He felt his mouth go dry and his heart-rate sped up. From anger and outrage, he told himself. _

'_What the hell...?'_

'_Oh, I think you know what this is for.'_

'_There is No. Way. In. Hell. that you're using that on me!'_

'_Oh, yes, I am! Unless you can tell me that you didn't do the same damn thing when one of your men needed a little reminder about following orders in the field.'_

'_Sure, I took my belt to my Marines when they needed it. But I haven't been...'_

'_I don't give a damn how long it's been, _Probie,_' Franks spat out, his emphasis on the last word making it very clear that Gibbs had better get used to not being the Gunny in charge of discipline._

'_C'mon, Mike, I'm not some kid...'_

'_You damn sure acted like one out there today!'_

'_I'm not gonna let you...'_

'_It's not _your _call, _Probie. _Just like it wasn't your call, this afternoon. You work for me, you obey me. You don't, you take the consequences.'_

'_Mike...'_

'_We're done talking.'_

_The two men exchanged hard looks for a long moment. Finally, Gibbs sighed and turned around, bracing himself on the desk. _

_It had been years since he'd climbed high enough up the non-comm ranks not to find himself in this position, years since he'd become accustomed to being the one wielding the belt. It wasn't easy for him to accept that he was once again a novice in an unaccustomed role, in need of supervision and training, and in need of discipline to reinforce those lessons. He hadn't expected to find himself on the other end of a belt... or strap... again. _

_But he was still enough of a soldier to follow an order that he didn't like, and he had to admit that his earlier ignoring of the chain of command had earned him the reprimand. And he respected Mike, and not just as a CO. And he knew Mike wasn't the kind of man to insist on doing things by the book for form's sake; he'd been willing enough to let him see the file on the man who'd killed his family, knowing full well what would happen to the dirtbag afterwards. This wasn't about some abstract conception of the rules; it was about the real imperatives of this job. He had no excuse for not accepting his punishment, except that it would hurt... and he was a Marine._

'_You don't really think you get to keep your pants on, do you Probie? Or is the Corps getting soft on green recruits who screw up? In my day...'_

_Franks trailed off as Gibbs angrily shoved his jeans down, shooting a mutinous look over his shoulder._

_The whipping was long and hard. Gibbs ground his teeth together, biting back any acknowledgement that the strap hurt like hell. But Franks was relentless, bringing the heavy leather down hard on his ass, again and again, until he could no longer hold in his choked grunts and moans. When it finally stopped, he could barely replace his clothing without howling in pain at the contact with his tender skin, and he knew that sitting would be impossible._

_*end flashback*_

Taking a deep breath, Gibbs brought the strap down hard, painting a broad red stripe across Tim's pale skin.


	4. Chapter 4

Tim shrieked, and bolted upright. He instinctively reached back, clutching at his burning backside, as if the automatic response could lessen the pain.

Gibbs waited, silently, for the younger man to realise what was expected of him.

It would be easier for Tim, he knew, if he held him down. Making him struggle to stay still, to put himself back into position when he failed, added to the punishment both physically and emotionally.

But, he knew, Tim needed the memory of _accepting_ this whipping. He needed to consciously submit to every agonising stroke, to know that he agreed to suffer the consequences of his actions.

He'd put Tony through this ritual the first time he'd whipped him, making him repeatedly force himself face-down on the hood of a jeep to wait for the next searing lash. He'd spared Tim the ordeal for his first spanking, holding him in place and getting it over with. He'd meant it as a kindness, but he suspected that some part of the younger man's difficulty coming to terms with the experience stemmed from a feeling of helplessness, from a sense that his willingness to atone for his actions played no part in his punishment. Right now, Tim needed this to _not_ be easy.

Tim looked at him, clearly surprised and terrified by how much the first stroke had hurt, confused about why he'd been allowed to 'escape', and plaintively hoping that the single lash was all he'd have to endure. Gibbs calmly returned his gaze, finally angling his eyes towards the table in a silent order.

Tim sobbed, giving him a last pleading look before hesitantly bending over again, his arms crossed in front of him.

'Hold on to the sides of the table, Tim. It helps... a little.'

The younger man turned his head at the gentle words, then slowly shifted his position.

Gibbs whipped him again, turning more of his ass an angry red. Tim screamed and bucked against the table, but managed to hold on and stay more or less in position.

Gibbs let his features soften slightly in empathy as he delivered a third lash, catching sight of his agent's red, tear-streaked face as he cried out and twisted away from the strap. He took a deep breath before forcing himself to continue. He hated seeing his people in pain... pain that he had caused them. And he'd recently been reminded just how much a whipping _hurts_. But he would do everything in his power to keep them safe, including making damn sure that they learned from their mistakes.

He gave Tim three more hard strokes, pausing after each to let him adjust his grip on the table and settle back into position.

He hesitated a moment longer before bringing the strap down on the back of his thighs.

Tim howled in pain and jolted to his feet, staggering backwards and turning towards Gibbs with wild eyes. He stood there panting, plainly horrified.

'We're not finished yet, Tim.'

For a long moment, he didn't move. Then, with obvious effort, he shuffled the short distance to the table and threw himself onto it with a heart-wrenching sob.

Gibbs delivered a final lash across his thighs and quickly assured him that it was over.

Tim collapsed face-down on the table, sobbing hard. Gibbs rested a comforting hand on his shoulder, but then forced himself to step back and give him a few minutes to pull himself together. He wanted to pull him upright and hold him tightly, but the hurt little boy he could see so clearly in the prone form was inside the body of a grown man, who would be mortified by being hugged, half-naked, by his boss.

Tim's shaking shoulders finally stilled and he awkwardly pushed himself to his feet and, still sniffling, retrieved his clothes. He gasped and whimpered at the painful contact with his reddened skin, looking up at Gibbs with an anguished expression.

Gibbs reacted instinctively, pulling him into his arms. He expected him to struggle, to push him away as Tony had done. Instead, Tim clung to him like a drowning man and started sobbing again. Gibbs held him gently, patting him softly on the back until he'd calmed down.

With a final sniffle, Tim finally relaxed his embrace and stepped back, rooting in his pocket for tissues with a wince.

'That really hurt, Boss!'

Gibbs smiled at the boyishness of Tim's tone. There was no reproach in the observation, just a slightly disbelieving statement of fact.

'I know, Tim. Trust me, I know. I remember every stroke Mike ever gave me with that thing.'

Tim looked at him in astonishment. Gibbs wasn't sure what surprised the younger man more: the revelation that he'd been whipped by his first partner, or the admission that it had been memorably painful.

'I can't have you and Tony fighting, Tim. Our jobs are too dangerous for you two not to have each other's back, and I'm not going to ignore hostility between you. It stops, right now.'

Tim nodded, looking serious and very, very young behind his drying tears.

'I know, Boss. I know you spanked me so that Tony doesn't get killed...'

'No, Tim. I strapped you so you don't have to live with yourself afterwards.'

Tim's eyes widened as he processed that information, and he swallowed hard in a desperate effort to keep from bursting into tears again.

'Go on home. Get some sleep.'

He nodded, and moved towards the door.

'And bring a pillow with you, tomorrow. Tony's gonna need his.'

Tim gave him a tentative smile.

'G'night, Boss.'

'Good night, son.'


End file.
